Tallulah Waters đ Iko (minorglitch) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-11-27 20:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * terri, c: tallulah waters |
WHO:â âTallulahâ âWatersâ
WHEN:â âWednesday, November 27th
WHERE:â âDunhaven Cemetery
SUMMARY:â âTallulah has some things to say to her father. â
WARNINGS:â Triggers for parental death, grief. Generally just lots of sadness.
BINGO:â âIt runs in the family.
â
Nothing was all right, as it turned out. The desperation of that fact was what had driven her there. She hadn't even known where she was going until her car had pulled into the passing lot at the cemetery. She had parked towards the entrance rather than driving up the path that would lead her closer to him. She had needed the timeâŚthe walk. Even as she put distance between herself and her car, she was almost tempted to go back. To tell herself this was a stupid idea. That this wasn't going to help. It had been almost a year since Tallulah had been there. Each of the siblings had dealt with their grief in their own ways. That grief had run a spiraling fissure down their family, but it thankfully hadn't driven them apart. They all had a way that they chose to commune with their father. Lorelei liked the water, and spoke to him often. Tallulah barely spoke to him or about him at all, anywhere. She kept her grief cradled there to her chest, a fragile and living thing, and pushed it as far down as she could until it carved out some piece of her to make room for itself instead. When she reached that marker, for a moment, Tallulah couldn't even look at it. She had pushed her hands deep into her coat pockets, and clenched her jaw, staring instead into the sky. Her week had gone from bad to worse, and she doubted this was really going to help matters. She took a deep, shaking breath and looked down. Lachlan Waters. January 21, 2016. The worst day of her life. She sniffled a little and cleared her throat, "You should be here." Her voice cracked, and she paused, pressing her lips together, eyes squeezed closed. Her lungs shook with her inhale, "You should be here!" Of course, she wasn't mad at him. She was mad at the situation; at the drunk driver who had taken him away. She was mad at herself, too. "I still needed you. We all still needed you, Daddy. Even now, years later, and youâre gone.â Her lungs felt like they were on fire, or maybe it was her heart. âI don't know how to do this - any of this - without you. Everything went so sideways, and I...I was supposed to be able to tell you about it. I was supposed to be able to go to Mama without worrying that Iâm going to break her heart. We were supposed to have more time!â She was unable to repress a sob that fought its way past her throat, raw and anguished. For a moment, she just stood there, tears running down her face. She shook her head, curls flying, but a floodgate had opened, âI donât trust people anymore. Maybe least of all myself. Losing you was too hard. It was never going to be easy, no matter how old I got, but I was sixteen, Daddy. I was a kid. I thought Iâd be grown up before I had to handle anything like that. We didnât even really get to say goodbye. Not when you could hear it. You were already gone.â She could still hear the beeps of those monitors that so often haunted her nightmares, but his brain had been gone. There had been nothing left to wake up. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, but it didnât help. âWhen you left that day, I didnât tell you that I loved you. I missed my last chance. You kissed the top of my head, and I just...I barely glanced up from my breakfast. What kind of daughter doesnât take two seconds to say âI love youâ one more time?â She lowered her head, crouching before that headstone, eyes too watery to see the engravings anymore, but that was just as well. Seeing his name ripped that wound open just a little further each time. âSince that day, Iâve said that people just leave. That they donât stick around so I shouldnât put my faith in them. That I shouldnât get close...but maybe itâs really me,â her voice split down the middle, and she fell completely to her knees. Her knees were instantly dampened by the dewy grass, and the chill of it sank into her. âBecause I run, Daddy. I keep people at least an armâs length away, and when they get too close...I run. Iâm the one that doesnât stick around. Iâm the one that leaves, and I never even give anyone else a chance to stay.â Something in her was broken, she thought. Sheâd been fractured that cold January afternoon, and when the pieces of her had healed, theyâd scarred over crooked, some of her missing altogether. âYouâd be soâŚdisappointed,â she bent double, pressing her hands over her eyes and for a long moment, sheâd run out of words. She had no cares that her hair was dragging into a mess of dampened leaves...that her jeans were slowly becoming soaked, her knees muddied. There was nothing more that she could really say. Nothing except a muffled cry, âIâm sorry. Iâm so...so sorry.â |